𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐭

Chapter Six

"I want to explore this place more," Holton mumbled as they still sat on the bench looking out at the city below.

Victoria looked at him, nodding her head, the short while she'd been there, she'd only been to her room, the medical room and a few others.

"When I tried to remember this floor, because I get lost a lot, I found something," he said as he was gaining Victoria's interest, she barely knew this place. And everyone was asleep and Holton memorized the floor, so he'd know it well enough not to get lost.

He began to stand up, fiddling with his pants pocket until he found a small blue flashlight. "Do you want to see for yourself?" he asked, she contemplated for a moment before saying, "Let's do it," and following after Holton, the part he'd lead her to was a part that seemed abandoned but clean, like no one comes to this section of the floor anymore.

Holton halted as Victoria moved from behind him to see, Ben Harrigan, written on the same gold plague like Victoria's room on the door. When Victoria tried to open the door, Holton whispered, "It's locked, I already tried to open it myself,"

And moved forward leaving Victoria and the room behind, Victoria could only see the small light that Holton's flashlight produced, the floors seemed covered by the light of the moon, hidden by the curtains. Victoria saw that Holton had stopped yet again at another room, which plaque read, Isobel Erling, Erling? Her mother's surname, this must've been her aunt Isobel's room, Holton twisted the knob showing that it's unlocked.

Victoria and Holton cautiously pushed open the creaking door to Isobel's old room, the hinges protesting loudly against their intrusion. Moonlight filtered through the dusty windows, illuminating the room in a soft, nostalgic glow. The air was heavy with the scent of old books and dried flowers, creating an atmosphere that seemed to hold secrets long forgotten.

Victoria stepped into the room first, her eyes scanning the walls adorned with yellowing photographs and faded paintings. She had heard stories of Aunt Isobel from her mother the night before she had to leave-of a spirited woman who had been chosen before her, leaving behind fragments of her adventures in every corner of this room.

Holton followed closely behind, his gaze drawn to the desk cluttered with yellowed maps, worn leather-bound journals, and an assortment of trinkets. He picked up a small wooden figurine, intricately carved with symbols he couldn't decipher, feeling the weight of history in his hands.

Victoria moved towards the bed, its once-vibrant quilt now muted with age. She gently traced the embroidered patterns, imagining her aunt resting here after her long journey, dreaming of far-off places. The room felt alive with Isobel's presence, as if her spirit lingered in every carefully curated artifact.

Holton, ever the observer, noticed a faded photograph tucked into the corner of the vanity mirror. He picked it up delicately, revealing a young Isobel smiling brightly beside a group of fellow people, their faces etched with determination and hope. It was clear from the photograph that Isobel had been a leader among them, her presence commanding respect and admiration.

As they explored further, Victoria uncovered a stack of letters bound together with a weathered ribbon. She recognized her own name scrawled across the top envelope in Isobel's elegant handwriting. With trembling hands, she opened it and began to read-words of encouragement, wisdom, and love from an aunt she had never met, yet whose spirit resonated deeply within her.

Holton stood silently by Victoria's side, silently absorbing the legacy of Isobel's adventures. In this room, they found not just artifacts of the past, but a connection to a woman whose courage and curiosity had shaped their own journey. As they prepared to continue their mission, they carried with them the stories and spirit of Isobel, knowing that her legacy would guide them through whatever challenges lay ahead.